


30 Days Wincest Challenge

by shipping_inc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Angst, Episode Related, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 02:34:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 11,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13157418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipping_inc/pseuds/shipping_inc
Summary: Wincest version of Shipping Inc.'s 30 Days OTP Challenge.Please, check the individual chapter summaries for ratings and warnings!Read and review.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: Holding hands  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

”What are you doing?”

”Holding your hand.”

”I can see that, but why?”

”For emphasis.”

”I’m pretty sure we’ve convinced them we’re boyfriends because, you know, we said so.”

“I’m just trying to make it believable, it’s crucial for the plan.”

Dean glanced at Sam because he knew just as well as Sam that making it look real wasn’t really that important for what they were trying to pull off. But he figured Sam was just trying to mess with him, some kind of a twisted dare to see how far he could push it because Dean couldn’t break his new character as Sam’s boyfriend.

Damn it, he was trapped.

The warm weight of Sam’s hand sent spikes of nervous energy up his arm and suddenly he was painfully aware of himself. His whole limb just froze and laid there unresponsive and lax while Sam wrapped his fingers to hold his hand properly. He even brushed his thumb over Dean’s knuckles, the bastard.

Get a grip, he told himself, it’s just for show, so keep your head straight.

The hotel receptionist came back with their room key. She glanced at their joined hands and flashed them a knowing smile.

“Sorry for the wait, darlings,” she said with her big Southern accent and leaned on the counter. “The room’s down the hall. If ya need anything, and I mean anything, just give us a holler. Y’all have a pleasant stay with us, okay.”

Sam took the key and turned to give Dean a suggestive wink and grin. “Come on, kitten, I heard this room comes with a hidden private jacuzzi.”

Yep, he was trapped in the deepest pits of Hell. Who would have guessed that turned out to be the Rainbow Inn., room 129, San Francisco.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Cuddling  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

You could squeeze surprisingly big things in a teenager’s closet when needed. Like two male hunters both over 6' and packing at least two manly layers of denim and plaid. There they were, nevertheless, pressed flush against each other and all but holding their breaths while the kid they were supposed to be investigating was pacing around the room like a restless animal and talking heatedly on the phone.

The kid was supposed to be cramming for midterms with his study group, but it seemed Mr. Honor Student wasn’t as squeaky clean as he appeared, and he was well on his way to becoming their POI number one.

They weren’t ready to take him down yet. They needed more.

Which is why Sam is currently trapped between the wall and Dean’s back. Full body spooning from head to toe. His head is filled with Dean: his scent, pressure, and heat of his body, breathing and every little movement he makes.

Sam squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lip. _Please, for love the God, do not get hard._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: First date  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

Dean slurped the last drops of his supersized strawberry milkshake and let out a full belch with a pained face.

“Dude, how many of those have you drunk?”

“You know I eat when I’m bored,” Dean said and tossed the empty cup in the trashcan they passed. “We’re just wasting our time here, I already know she has nothing to do with the plunderings of the graves.”

“So you keep telling me,” Sam mumbled while letting his gaze wander on the fair vendors in all the colors of the rainbow, people laughing, and little kids, drawn by the big stuffed animals, pulling their parents by their hands towards the stalls.

“Because I’m right. She’s just here with her boyfriend. It’s Mr. Good Grades from last night we need to worry about.”

“It doesn’t hurt to cover all the basses,” Sam shrugged. “Besides, when was the last time we got to go to one of these?”

Dean didn’t say anything, just glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye. He took in his relaxed shoulders, a little spring in his step, and how his eyes kept following the vivid colors of the vendors’ booths.

He supposed Sam was right, it really had been a while.

“Excuse me, sir! Sir! You in the black jacket with the tall gentleman!”

Dean stopped, looking around. A few feet away there was a vendor in a vest made of the Stars and Stripes gesturing at him.

“Yes, you, sir!” He smiled widely at them. “You look like you can throw a punch. Would you mind helping me out?”

“I’m not going to beat anyone up for you, so forget it.”

The man looked at him for a while confused, then his round face split in half and he guffawed loudly. His big, barrel of a belly shook with the laughter.

“No, my friend, not that kind of help.” Out of his pocket, he dug a white rag with which he dabbed his forehead. “I just need someone to punch in the target on the machine. Usually, my son Frankie does it but he’s not with me today.”

“Target?”

“Yes, the target. People need to beat your punch to win something.”

The good spirits of the vendor were contagious, and Dean couldn’t help but let a smile tug the corners of his mouth a little. “Isn’t asking me to punch the target cheating a little? How can you expect any of these stay-at-home dads to beat it?”

The man smiled at him mischievously. “You call it cheating, my friend, I call it motivation.” He gestured Dean to come closer. “Give it a try, come on. I’ll let you pick anything from the prizes for your pains. A good-looking chap like yourself must have a special someone, I’m sure they’d love something cute.”

“Well, you twisted my arm.”

They walked over to the booth and after a few practice swings, Dean hit in a whopping 911.

“Very good, my friend, very good!” the vendor exclaimed and clapped Dean’s shoulder. “Say, are you looking for an easy job? If you did this, instead of my son, I wouldn’t have to practically give out the prizes.”

Dean chuckled, and Sam suppressed a groan. As far as he was concerned, Dean’s manliness didn’t need any more boasting.

“Now, I believe I promised you a little something,” the man said and turned at the back wall of the booth loaded with anything and everything from little trinkets that would break before you could make it to the parking lot to a stuffed giraffe almost as big as the vendor. “Pick anything you like.”

Dean turned to grin at Sam. “What would you like?”

Sam’s head snapped up. “Huh?”

“Yeah, something cute for my special someone.”

In an instant, Sam’s neck and face flushed. He couldn’t help glancing at the vendor. The man’s eyebrows had traveled far north but he didn’t say anything. Perhaps Dean’s punching abilities had convinced him to keep his thoughts to himself.

“Do – do you have any stuffed moose?” he stammered. It took all the hunter in him to not look away and keep his voice more or less even.

His question seemed to wake the vendor out his surprised haze and he flashed Sam an easy smile.

“It just so happens, we got a fresh batch last week.”

The man rummaged something under the counter until he pulled out a little stuffed toy of a sitting moose. Its head was tilted a bit and it looked at Sam with black button eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Kissing  
> Rating: T/M  
> Warnings: Implied non-con

It’s Sam but it’s not Sam.

It’s his face and his body. It’s his voice. It’s his strength and hunter instincts. Dean can recognize all the moves and plays.

But it’s not Sam’s eyes and smile. It’s not his chuckle and warmth. It’s not his empathy and patience. Time and time again, Dean loses his balance because he doesn’t get the familiar, natural response.

It’s Sam’s hands roaming Dean’s skin, gripping his waist. It’s his dick pushing into Dean but it’s not Sam’s lips kissing him.

The first and last time he kisses Sam-but-not-Sam it’s not on his own volition. Mid-fuck, rough fingers grasp him under the chin and his head is tilted up. Hot, demanding mouth is pressed against his lips and takes him by surprise.

A shiver of disgust runs through Dean, and instinctively he yanks himself back. Like when you accidentally touch something slimy and alive.

Sam-but-not-Sam looks at him for a while with an expression Dean can’t read – which makes him even more uneasy – before silently going back to finish himself off.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Wearing each other's clothes  
> Rating: G/T  
> Warnings: None

For a few fleeting seconds Dean actually thought of starting to accompany Sam on his morning runs and ridiculous stretches, or at least cutting down on the chili-cheese burgers with extra fries, when he once again faced the familiar problem: the only clean pair of underwear in the house was Sam’s. He could pull them on, but they’d be tight and the waistband would dig in his stomach uncomfortably all day. He wasn’t fat or anything, thank you very much, just meatier than his brother.

Annoyed that his day had started off so poorly he brushed his teeth with vigor in front the of the bathroom mirror. With another hand he tried to stretch out the waistband, in vain. In the mirror he noticed Sam leaning against the doorframe and looking at him.

“What?” Dean said around the toothbrush and mouth full of foam.

“Nothing,” Sam said, although to Dean it looked like definitely something.

Dean bent down to spit in the sink. “I’ll wash my clothes today so you’ll have these back in a few days.”

Silently Sam had crept right behind him, and Dean jumped when he felt hands coming to rest on his hips. He pressed against Dean’s back and one of his hands caressed the round of his butt, squeezed the soft flesh a bit.

“I don’t mind,” he said right next to Dean’s ear. “I think you should definitely run out of clean clothes more often.”

“I’m just a piece of meat to you, aren’t I?”

Sam chuckled. “You can’t possibly hold me accountable with your ass wiggling in front of me.”

A few minutes later Dean discovered a much better way to work off the extra fries than going jogging every morning.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: Shopping  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

“No, not that kind,” Dean said and picked up the package of chicken Sam had just dropped in the cart. “Get the other kind.”

“Other kind?”

“Yeah, the free-ranged stuff,” Dean explained to the rows of milk cartons with the tone that suggested he knew better and Sam should do both of them a favor and do as he says. “I read somewhere the cooped-up chicken is bad for you.”

Sam was standing there holding the pack of meat like an idiot. “You read somewhere?”

“Shut up, I read.”

Sam smiled a little to himself. “What happened to the man who used to shop by color?”

“Well, Mr. Hedfield still has a few bucks to his name so I figured we might as well go all out.”

“So, you don’t mind eating healthy if someone else is paying?”

“Exactly,” Dean said and finally picked them a couple cartons of milk. Low fat with added protein and vitamins. “Burgers are good value. No way I’m going to start paying for some bitch-ass salad-shake.”

He turned the cart around with an easy flick of his wrist. “Actually, I think it’s best if I come with you. There’s this one brand that is also local. Come on.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: An accident  
> Rating: T  
> Warnings: None

”Oh, shit,” came a slightly panicked voice behind Dean’s back.

“What?” Dean whipped his head so fast his neck cracked. Those weren’t the words he wanted to hear by someone who had just fucked him through the mattress and just pulled out.

“The condom was broken.”

“That’s it? I thought – Actually never mind what I thought.” Dean relaxed back in his post-coital bliss. “What’s the big deal, it’s not like I could get pregnant.”

Sam smacked the back of his head with more force than Dean thought was necessary.

“For the sake of all the women you’ve slept with I hope to God you know what safe sex means.”

“Shut up.” Dean rubbed his head and turned on his back. Sam got off the bed and started pulling his boxers on. Immediately Dean wished he would’ve stayed in bed with him, he was already getting cold without the warm weight behind him. “But I still don’t get what the big deal is. Neither of us is fucking around.”

Sam had his back on him and was rummaging through the pile of clothes with such interest it almost seemed to Dean that he tried avoiding talking to his face.

“I don’t think we’ve agreed to be exclusive,” he said to the lonely sock while trying to find its partner.

All the lingering pleasure of their moment of amore fled Dean’s body and mind. He sat up in the bed and looked at Sam’s board, silent back.

“So, what are you saying?” Dread that he had gotten the wrong idea about them sneaked its ugly, cold fingers around his heart. “You want to – ”

“What, no, no!” Sam spun around and interrupted him. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What then?”

“What about you?” Sam asked quietly. “Do you want to…you know.”

A deep, relieved sigh escaped between Dean’s lips and defused all the tension that had managed to, in a matter of seconds, tighten him up like a spring ready to bounce. Naked, he walked over to Sam and planted a big messy kiss in the middle of his worried-puppy face.

“Man, you’d think they had given bigger brains to go with that Sasquatch body of yours,” he said and untangled the sock Sam was holding from his hand and tossed it back in the pile of clothes they had hurriedly shed earlier. “I don’t want to do this – any of this – with anyone else. So, as far as I’m concerned, we can toss the rubbers.”

Sam vividly relaxed and melted under Dean’s hands which had begun to roam his skin and awakened the pleasant buzz in his groin again. It took all of his self-control grab Dean by his wrists and not let his dick take the wheel.

“I’m glad to hear that, but we’re not going to do it bare.” When Dean tensed up and opened his mouth to argue, he silenced him gently but with determination. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, okay. If you say it’s just us, then it’s just us. But doing it without protection is playing with fire, and we do that enough on a daily basis. I want to have at least one place in this world where I don’t have to worry about anything.”

Dean fell silent, and a for a while Sam thought he had said something wrong, but then he noticed the faint red spots that had appeared to color Dean’s cheeks.

“Damn it, don’t just spring stuff like that out with that face. Come here,” he mumbled and grabbed Sam in a heated kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Needing each other  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: Implied canon character death

Sam only sleeps every third night. At that point the exhaustion finally claims him, and for the next 12+ hours, he’s dead to the world. He doesn’t dream, he doesn’t feel, just floats in the blackness.

All the other nights he just lays in the bed of whatever motel he happens to be passing through, stares at the ceiling and walls. It’s him, his thoughts, trucks rumbling across the parking lot, and the clacking of an occasional hooker walking past his room door.

Some nights he seethes with anger. How did Dean dare to do this to him? He always talked how much he loved Sam, so how come he just LEFT him? Who gave him the right to decide on his own for both of them, effectively leaving Sam to live with the consequences? He was weak, selfish, and needy, always had been.

Anger soon morphs into self-pity. This, none of this is fair. He had given so much to protecting people and hunting down the evil. Is this his thanks? To sacrifice even the last thing he held dear in the world? He had saved so many people, complete strangers, couldn’t he have picked even one for him to keep? Was all his life would ever have in store for him just more of this?

Most sleepless nights, though, he is drowned in longing and grief. It aches deep down in his chest, sometimes so bad he can’t breathe. It just keeps pouring more and more into him until it threatens to spill over.

Those nights he either goes to the nearest bar, knocks back enough whiskey shots to knock out a small horse and a few hours later stumbles back to his room with a fresh shiner and bloodied knuckles, or spreads out the maps and lore books and fills his head with hate and revenge.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9: Morning/evening rituals  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

The song, it’s different. That’s the first thing Sam notices. The problem is, he’s lived so many Tuesdays in a row, he’s not sure if he’s just dreaming or did he really make it out of the circle.

He’s decided to take nothing at its face value.

“What, you’re gonna sleep all day?”

Dean’s standing by the bathroom sink brushing his teeth, that’s the second difference. He’s not sitting next to Sam and tying his shoes. He’s not lip-syncing the stupid Asia song, and Sam doesn’t have the ever-growing urge to punch him.

“I know, no Asia. This station sucks.”

Sam flinches because it felt like Dean had just read his mind. And only just now he thinks to look at the ugly beige alarm clock. WED, it says, but Sam’s still having trouble believing it.

“It’s Wednesday,” he says more to himself.

The relief and dread push and shove each other in his head. If it’s not a Tuesday, will it be another Wednesday?

“Yeah, usually comes after Tuesday,” Dean says and looks at Sam weird. “Turn that thing off.” He waves that the radio with this toothbrush.

That’s it, there’s only one way to make sure.

Sam throws the covers off and with a couple strides, he’s in front of Dean and arms wrapped around his shoulders. The wet toothbrush is smushed between, but Sam doesn’t care, just presses Dean tight against himself. He’s solid and warm, he’s alive, and Sam feels like laughing but he’s too scared to jinx it. He takes a deep breath of Dean’s aftershave and shampoo and the smell of the motel bed and never wants to let go.

“Dude, how many Tuesdays did you have?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10: Pet names  
> Rating: T  
> Warnings: None

”It’s Sam. Sammy is a chubby 12-years-old.”

Sammy.

A greeting, a goodbye. A question, a statement. Following some brotherly tease or wisdom. It’s almost like a suffix in Dean’s speech.

Sammy!

Yelled worriedly in a haunted warehouse when the monster of the week slams some door close between them or a poltergeist scaring some poor family in their freshly purchased home tosses Sam across the room like a ragdoll. Dean screaming his name, panicked, when the Great Wall of Sam finally breaks.

Sammy?

A hesitant question and couple tentative steps. Too scared to believe his eyes, when Dean sees his brother a year after he jumped into the Pit with Michael. Or any other time either of them came back from the certain grave.

Sa-sammy…

Breathed between swollen red lips when Sam’s calloused hand pumps the final tugs and Dean’s eyes roll back. Or full of anticipation when Sam gets on his knees and mouths Dean through the jeans leaving damp spots of saliva behind.

Sammy.

“He’s the only who gets to call me that.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11: Hanging out with friends  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

It’s not really noticeable at first. She didn’t take notice anything until she had spent enough time with them in the safety and privacy of the bunker. In the outside world they acted like any other brothers but in the bunker, at home, you could see the difference.

The way they kind of relaxed after shrugging off the jackets and kicking off the boots. But not in the what-a-day-it-has-been-and-boy-is-it-nice-to-be-finally-home way like anyone would after a grueling day at work. The way they talked and acted outside was still present but there was more…intimacy, if you will.

Dean flashed his smirk just the same but occasionally she would catch a glimpse of a soft little smile when Sam was excitedly explaining some new piece of lore he had stumbled upon. Sometimes Sam would catch the same expression as she and blush ever so slightly. One time she had been going to the kitchen but stopped in her tracks when she spotted the two of them standing closely in front of the stove, backs to the doorway. Dean’s arm was casually resting on the small of Sam’s back and Sam was chuckling at something he said.

Finally, over the last forkfuls of one Sunday dinner, she decided to ask them directly. She had just witnessed a fully grown man wiping gravy off the corner of another grown man’s mouth and licking his thumb clean. then suddenly tensing up still sucking his finger like he had just realized what he had done. This couldn’t just be in her head.

“Can I ask you guys something?” She cleared her throat. “Are you two…” Maybe she should’ve figured out how to first. “…you know?”

Sam’s brows knitted in confusion. Dean stiffened in the middle of sipping his beer.

“Are we what?”

“Well, you know…Are you…like THAT.” She motioned vaguely between them.

Dean made his choice at that point and pretended to be preoccupied with gulping down the rest of his beer, which was almost the whole bottle, and let Sam deal with her. She could see Sam hadn’t quite yet caught up with her drift, but some cold inkling was gnawing at him.

“Like what?”

It seemed there was no other way than to be blunt. She had come this far already.

“Are you two more than brothers? Like in an intimate relationship?”

Then the only thing she could do was to watch it all unravel right before her eyes which really was the only answer she needed. Dean choked on his beer and was doubled over in a coughing fit. Sam’s fork dropped and hit the plate with a loud, sharp clatter. He pulled back from leaning across the table and looked so panicked and flustered she regretted ever opening her big mouth. It was none of her business whose dick went where, anyway.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – “ she hurried to explain. Dean gained some control of his respiratory system and wheezed his way back to sit straight. “I mean, I’ve just been – And it’s totally fine if you are! I’ve seen so many freaky things in the past few months this wouldn’t even make the TOP 10. And my lips are sealed, too, so just…” She zipped his mouth with her fingers and threw the “key” over her shoulder.

An awkward, heavy silence filled the room. She took careful glances at the two and cursed herself.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me. We don’t have to talk about it, it’s none of my business. I just…” She collected herself and looked them both straight into their eyes. “I just want you to know that it’s okay. I’m okay with it, honest. I kind of get it. And I will never breathe a word about this to anyone.”

Neither of them said anything. To break the tension, she clapped her hands. “I heard there was an apple pie for dessert!”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: Trying something new  
> Rating: M  
> Warnings: None

”No.”

”Come ooon...”

”NO.”

”Why not? It’s not like you haven’t done it before.”

“When I was 19!”

“But you said you liked it.”

“I said I KIND of liked it. And I never told anyone about it, how in the hell did you find out?”

“Cas. He seemed confused.”

Dean sighed and tried his best to avoid looking at the offensively pink panties spread on display on his bed. When Sam had said he wanted to try something new this wasn’t exactly what he had had in mind. He had thought more along the lines of – Actually, never mind you that. But not THIS. Damn it, Cas.

“I know you secretly want to,” Sam said and captured Dean in his embrace from behind. “You want to know if you KIND of like it still.”

Dean tried to suppress the shiver when by Sam’s hot breath puffed against his ear but failed miserably.

“Fine,” he said with a yielding sigh. “But you seriously owe me.”

For some reason changing the panties on was even more humiliating than actually wearing them. Things weren’t made any easier by Sam laying on the bed, leaning against the headboard and following his every move intently. Dean took some pleasure in knowing how uncomfortable and awkward his brother must have been when purchasing pink panties in Dean’s size.

The piece of lingerie slipped on surprisingly easy and fit Dean perfectly if he said so himself. The silk felt cool and slippery against his skin. Dean busied himself with fiddling with the panties so he wouldn’t have to look at Sam. He had edged to the end of the bed and was motioning Dean to come closer. Awkwardly he shuffled to stand in front of him.

Sam touched the smooth fabric, slid his hand over the silky bump of Dean’s ass. “You look…” he breathed.

“Stupid, I know.” Dean folded his arms and stood stiffly while Sam’s hand roamed.

“How does it feel?” One of the hands wandered to the front and brushed against the bulge which looked out of place in this kind of clothing. “It isn’t too tight?”

Dean grunted and shifted his weight nervously. The bottom his stomach was twisting as the warm touches got firmer and more possessive. Almost unnoticed his breathing started getting more faster and deeper. Blood started rushing down to heat up his groin. Dean silently cursed his treacherous body, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Sam hooked his finger under the waistband, stretched it a little, and let it snap back. Dean jumped and glared down at him. His protest died on his lips, though, when he saw Sam’s dark, hooded eyes staring at him. His hands grabbed Dean’s hips.

“Don’t take them off,” he growled. “I want to fuck you like this.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13: In a battle side-by-side  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

It’s never just a simple salt-and-burn.

When they stumble back to the motel the first rays of morning sun already twinkles in the horizon. Dean shuts the engine off and bumps Sam’s shoulder. He flinches awake and looks around confused.

“Come on, we’re at the motel.”

They’re both too exhausted to even take a shower, just shrug off their jackets, shed clothes covered with slime, dirt and blood, and collapse in their respective beds. Dean presses his head in the lumpy pillow and fumbles blindly for the cover to pull over his shoulders. Someone is taking their morning piss in the room next door, he could hear the stream hitting the water. Housecleaning rolls their supply cart, it creaks and squeaks along the corridor.

“I should take a look at your arm,” Sam mumbles.

“S’fine.”

“Roll over?”

Dean grunts and drags himself to the left side of the bed. The mattress dips when Sam settles behind him. His knees brush the back of Dean’s thighs and arm presses across his shoulder blades.

They forgot to close the curtains and in a couple hours the sun will be shining right in their room but Dean’s too tired to bother. The bed is too soft, Sam’s too warm next to him, his steady breathing – already edging a light snore – too lulling him to sleep.

Man, I hate witches, is the last thing in his head before darkness takes over.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14: Arguing  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

There is a neon sign standing in the middle of a motel parking lot in Chatsworth, Illinois. It had stood there for decades, ever since the motel owner, Earl Lee, had decided to give his business one last hurrah but ended up going belly up nevertheless in the economic shit storm of the 70’s. He had sold his life work for peanuts to a bigger company which could afford to lose some money on small lots in one-horse towns and later turn them into profit.

The sign had seen all kinds of folks come and go. Everything had its time and place in history, its season, if you will.

Except for these two.

One late night in June, a black Impala sped around the corner and braked with an angry jerk in front of room 301. The car alone was enough to pique the locals’ curiosity. You didn’t see classic cars like her much anymore, in a time when everything had to have four airbags and a pesky beeping noise to remind you to put on your seatbelt.

The passengers, two men – one tall, the other taller – also seemed to be stuck in the past. Or at least true to a certain rural lifestyle. The radio played Kenny Rogers until the engine was shut off. Broad shoulders hunched under plaid and worn-out denim. Combat boots scrapped the blacktop.

They seemed tense. The taller of the two with long brown locks walked briskly around the car and yanked the trunk open and bent down to rummage it through. The other one with bow-legs followed him suite and waved animatedly with his hands. He was ignored until he shoved the other man’s shoulder.

Goldie Locks, now holding an army green duffel, spun around and was in the other man’s face, towering over him.

The sounds of their argument carried across the parking lot easily even though the evening breeze faded out few words here and there.

“…just a little kid, Sam!”

“It was no kid. Not anymore.”

“What the hell happened to saving people?!”

The taller man puffed his chest out and almost bumped into the other one. What he said next couldn’t be heard but it seemed to upset the shorter one. So much so that he grabbed a tight hold of his collar and shook him a little as to help him carry his point across.

“…not my fault. You would’ve done the same.”

“Maybe so, but I’m trying to fix it now, so I won’t have to face the same situation!” The brunette yanked himself free and slung the duffel bag over his shoulder. “Thanks a lot for that, Dean, really.”

With that, the shorter man was left standing alone in the parking lot when the other one stormed off to the room. For a while, he just stood there and jiggled the car keys in his hand. It seemed like he was tempted to just drive off and never look back but ended up shoving the keys in his pocket, slamming the trunk shut, and walking over to Eddie’s Bar and Grill across the street.

There the neon sign of a pint being filled in a loop greeted the weary traveler, welcomed him to some cheap beer and bad life decisions.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 15: Making up afterwards  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

When Dean walked back from Eddie’s their motel room was dark. He opened the door quietly and shed his clothes without turning on the lights. The neon sign outside shimmered through the curtains just enough for him to stumble his way around the room.

Sam was in bed already, but Dean doubted he was asleep.

The bar had been crowded, rowdy, and smelled of cigarettes and greasy food. Just what Dean had needed. He had drunk couple beers, nursed them in a remote corner at the end of the bar. The bartender had tried chatting with him but after a while of receiving monosyllabic answers he had taken the hint and left him be.

The beer had given him a little buzz, but he could still hear Sam’s words echoing in the back of his head.

With a heavy sigh, he lowered himself on the bed, careful not to jiggle the mattress too much.

_so I won’t have to face the same situation_

_the same situation_

In six months, Dean’s deal will expire and the hellhounds will come for him. By now that has become the only sure thing about his life. They won’t find a way out of this one.

_I’m trying to fix it now_

You won’t, Dean thought to himself in the dark. I’m sorry, Sammy.

The sheets rustled next to him. A hand found his and squeezed it a little. The arm against his was warm from under the blanket.

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered.

“I know, it’s okay.” Dean brushed his thumb over the knuckles slowly, felt the details and bumps of every joint. Followed the thin tendons up the back of the hand, traced patterns on the skin.

“I’m just…scared. But I’m not going to give up, I’ll try harder.”

Dean wished Sam would stop talking. The more he said, the heavier the invisible weight on Dean’s chest got making is harder and harder to draw breath.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16: Proposal  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

Sam looked at the plain silver ring on his palm, then at Dean, then at the ring again. “Dean?” He sounded confused. “What’s this?”

And no wonder. Dean had just shoved the ring in his hand with a grunt of “there” and gone back to gulping down his beer and looking at the Arizona night sky full of stars. There what?

“It’s a ring.”

“Yeah, I can see that, but,” Sam weighted the ring in his hand, “what – why?”

Dean shrugged nervously. “Well, you know.”

For almost two weeks the ring had burned in his pockets. Paranoid that Sam would find it at a wrong time, in a wrong place he had kept shifting it between his duffel, toiletry bag, jacket, and the glove compartment. The problem was, it never felt like the right time and right place.

Until tonight. They had just wrapped up a quick and relatively clean salt-and-burn case and decided to take the scenic road home. Drive at their own pace, have twelve hours sleeps, or stop for star gazing and have a couple cold ones. For once the damn world wasn’t about to collapse on them.

Yes, Dean had thought to himself while propping himself on the hood of the Impala. Tonight’s the night.

“I don’t get it, is it for me?”

Sure, it could’ve gone down smoother than this.

“Yeah.”

Sam chuckled. “What, you proposing to me or something?” Dean swung his bottle and gulped on the beer intently. His silence dawned on Sam. “Oh God, you are, aren’t you?” he said quietly and stared at Dean.

“Why?!” he gaped. He was still holding the ring awkwardly on his flat palm. According to the timeline Dean had had in mind, it would’ve been in his finger by now.

He glared Sam out of the corner of his eye. “If you don’t want it, give it back.”

“No.” Sam snatched the ring out of reach, closed it in his fist. “Would you just answer the damn question.”

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed and spread his arms. “I guess I just wanted to make it official or something.”

“Official?” Sam sounded like Dean had lost him again. “There isn’t a ring in this world that would make THIS official. It’s not real.”

“It would be for me.” The words slipped between his lips before he could stop them. “Besides,” he hurried to hide behind reason, “nothing about our lives has ever been ‘real’ to others, anyway.”

Sam looked at the ring again, traced his thumb along the rim, mumbled something Dean couldn’t make out. Then a little smile tugged his lips, that warm one that was his specialty. Dean noticed his hands shook slightly when he slipped the ring on his finger.

“Then, yes,” he said and leaned in for a kiss.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 17: Birthday  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

Both of them have died and come back so many times the concept of birthdays has lost its meaning. Birth, death, being alive, it was all relative. Every day Dean could breathe air and have Sammy next to him in the car he counted as a win.

When the 24th of January rolled around that year, they were on a stakeout. The small buckeye town where they had been working on a case that seemed to have something to do with werewolves was in all its winter glory. Heavy snow banks edged the icy roads, Dean froze his nuts off in the mornings when he scraped the car windows.

It was snowing. Snowflakes big as rag rugs floated down, muffled the already quiet night. They were holed up in the car, huddled under blankets.

“From now on, let’s only hunt Californian monsters,” Dean mumbled sourly.

“You want some coffee?”

“Got anything stronger?”

“Come on, we have to stay alert.”

A shiver ran through Dean. “Oh, I’m alert, alright.”

Sam rolled his eyes and muttered something about pouty children. He reached down and dug something out of the little cooler by his feet. A little chocolate chip muffin, those individually wrapped ones you could get from hotel breakfasts.

“I was going to wait until midnight but I don’t think I can listen to your whining any longer.” A short candle with twisting colors was pushed through the slight crust of the muffin and lighted after a couple failed attempts. “Happy birthday.”

When Dean just looked at the cake, Sam motioned expectantly. “Come on, you know the drill.”

“What am I, five?”

“Would you just blow the damn candle, so I can give you your gift?”

Dean gave a little puff, and the flame fluttered and died. A thin swirl of smoke rose up between them. He tore a piece of the muffin and shoved it into his mouth.

“So, what’s this gift you – mph!” Sam captured his face and claimed his mouth. A tongue pushed past his lips, swept around, brushed and tasted. The muffin dropped from Dean’s suddenly slack hand and rolled forgotten to the floor.

Sam pulled back and licked his lips. “Mmm, chocolate.”

All Dean could do was to blink. The kiss had gone straight to his groin. With a considerable amount of his bloodstream.

“Now, be a good boy the rest of the night and I’ll give a kiss like to your dick in the morning.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18: Anniversary  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: Implied canon character death

_May 8, 1983_

The baby is crying. Always crying. Day and night.

The sides of the bed are too high to climb over, like a wall of a castle. But with some edging a thin hand slips between the narrow bars. The baby’s alien looking head is red from all the screaming, its eyes are screwed shut tight, little balls of fists swinging randomly. There aren’t tears, though, it’s just noise.

“Stop it!” The tiny fist is grabbed and pinned to the mattress. “Quiet!”

The eyes crack open. The pupils are so big the eyes are almost black. They glue to his general direction and the mouth quiets down.

Mom comes to the room.

“Oh, you’re both up.” Her hand gives a quick stroke before she reaches down to pick up the baby. Immediately it starts to whimper. Great. “Good morning to you, too, Sammy.”

“It woke me up. Again.”

Mom lowers the baby on a table and starts taking its clothes off. The whimpering turns into sniffle. “Aww, I’m sorry, honey. He was just hungry. You know you used to cry just like this, too.”

“When it goes back?”

“Back?” Mom isn’t even looking this way, just fusses over the baby.

“To the hospital.”

A small laughter bubbles out like he said something funny. “He’s your little brother. So, be sure to be a good big brother and look over him, okay?”

But what if it rides a bike better than him? What if it makes better macaroni necklaces? What if you love it more?

The baby should definitely go back.

_May 13,1990_

Sam kind of feels for the teachers.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. What about for your grandmother, then?”

“I see. An aunt?”

“Any maternal persons? It doesn’t have to be a woman.”

After a while, Dad lets them skip school that week.

_May 10, 2013_

Sam knows there’s a small box deep in the truck full of old pictures. Dean had made the box at Bobby’s, spent the whole week sulking in the shop because dad wouldn’t take him on a hunt that time. Not this time, he had said. Watch out for Sammy. Do as Bobby says.

Born out of teenage angst and spite, the box looked good. Simple, smooth design, couple protection symbols engraved on the lid. There was also a lock, but Sam had learned to pick it in a week.

There are pictures of them at various ages. Sam reading an old Spiderman comic in the backseat. Or eating birthday ice cream messily at some diner. Dad, his back to the camera, working on the car and Dean standing attentively next to him.

There are also other things: two marijuana joints which give the box a sweet smell, couple out-of-date condoms, some old coins, and pieces of paper phone numbers and addresses on them.

There are pictures of mom.

Whenever Sam would miss her as a kid he picked the lock on Dean’s box and looked through the old pictures. He had a specific order, always left the pictures of mom the last. No one ever wanted to talk about her, every time he tried to bring her up he was shut down.

They still don’t talk about her. But the pictures have come out of the box. They’re now in Dean’s room, on display by his bed. Whenever they’re sleeping there, and Dean’s snoring against the hollow of Sam’s neck, he looks at her pictures and tries to imagine what she was like.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 19: Something sad  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: Implied canon character death

He’s a mess. Shoulders slouched, eyes red-rimmed, spirit broken like the whole world had ended.

“Hey, Lisa.” His voice is hoarse, it cracks and breaks.

She can’t help but breathe in silent relief. “Oh, thank god. Are you alright?”

It’s a stupid, pointless question of course, and mainly asked for her own sake, but it slips automatically.

“Uh, if it’s not too late, I…think I’d like to take you up on that beer.”

“It’s never too late.” She gives a sad little smile, thankful that there’s something she can do. She can grab onto something concrete task, no matter how trivial it was, and not just be left to stand there to endure to look at his pained face.

She steps aside to let him in and soon has her hands full of board shoulders. He squeezes her tight around her middle like his life depended on it. Presses his face against her necks, breathes there hot and shuddering.

“Shh.” She runs her through his hair, strokes the back of his head. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

An empty promise, she knows, but it’s another one of those things that one says before even realizing. And there is truth in it. She doesn’t know what has happened but she swears to try and make it okay with all she’s got.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 20: Something hot  
> Rating: E  
> Warnings: None

Sam opens the stall door but is suddenly pushed back in. At first, he thinks he’s under attack and automatically clasps his fingers around the wrist of the hand shoving him backwards. Demands of “what the hell?!” are about to fly out but he swallows them when he recognizes Dean in front of him. He shushes him to be quiet and clicks the stall door locked leaving them crammed in the relatively tiny space. Sam frowns confused, maybe they are under an attack.

“What – “ he whispers but Dean muffles him by pressing his hand over his mouth. Again, he’s shushed.

What the hell?

One hand remaining to cover Sam’s mouth, Dean reaches for Sam’s hand and pulls it to press against his crotch. He’s hard. Sam’s eyes widen and dart between Dean’s lap and his face. He’s grinning like an idiot and winks mischievously.

No, he tries to message via his eyes. NO.

They’re deadlocked in a furious eyebrow conversation for a while. Sam’s frowning so hard his forehead hurts. Dean, the bastard, wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and rubs Sam’s limp hand against himself.

The bathroom door clacks, and someone occupies the stall one booth away from them. They both freeze to listen. A belt buckle clinks, newspaper rustles indicating a longer session than just taking a piss. Dean’s lips are parted in concentration but when the realization hits him, his grin widens and gets more wicked.

Sam squints his eyes and throws mental daggers.

“Come on,” Dean mouths and nudges his hips.

Fine, Sam decides. If that’s how you want to play, then let’s play.

He yanks Dean’s fly open and tugs the jeans and underwear down a little to give him room. A tongue darts out of Dean’s mouth and sweeps his lips in anticipation. The hooded eyes pop wide open, though, when Sam wrings his fingers around him a little too tight.

Dean glances at him but Sam plays dumb and just raises his eyebrows. What?

But it still feels good, Sam knows it. The grip might be intense, but the strokes are fast and the thumb rubbing over the slit could make your knees weak. And sure enough, Dean braces his free hand against the stall wall and his forehead knots in concentration to keep quiet.

The man couple meters away coughs and turns the page of his paper.

Dean’s hips begin to pump trying to match the rhythm of Sam’s strokes. His hand over Sam’s mouth loosens when he’s failing to pay attention to two things at the same time. By the way he’s biting down on his lip and keeping his eyes closed Sam can tell he’s already close.

Sam shifts from long strokes to shorter ones, twists his wrist for some extra flavoring and keeps flicking his thumb over the head. Dean’s hand comes to cover Sam’s, guides the speed and angle. By now it’s really just Dean jerking himself off with Sam’s hand.

The newspaper rustles again, this time accompanied by a snort of swallowing your own mucus. A smoker, Sam thinks in passing. They need to wrap this up or else it’s going to be one hell of an awkward encounter at the sinks.

The stall door clangs and creaks when Dean is pushed against it. He glances up in surprise when Sam pins him down. This time it’s Sam’s turn to cover someone’s mouth. Dean breathes through his nose, the air puffs hard and hot on the side of Sam’s hand.

The pressure of Sam’s weight seems to excite Dean even more and his lids shudder close, eyes roll back.

Ah, there it is. Dean’s tell-tale sign of “I’m about to come”.

Sam opens his mouth and picks Dean’s middle finger between his teeth, bites down hard enough to leave a mark. Dean’s back arches and hot liquid erupts in bursts.

Just in time, the toilet in the other stall is flushed and the little whimper that escapes down in Dean’s throat is drowned. The booth door is opened, and Sam prays the man doesn’t notice a pair of legs pointing in the wrong direction in one of the stalls. The faucet runs for a while and then the bathroom door clacks again.

Sam releases Dean’s mouth and they can both finally breathe.

“I can’t believe you,” he hisses and rolls out toilet paper to wipe his hand. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Carpe diem, Sammy.” Dean gives him a lop-sided, satisfied grin. “Carpe diem.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 21: Something ridiculous  
> Rating: T  
> Warnings: None

Long story short, Dean is drunk off his ass and they’re at the local McDonald’s.

“Sammy, hey Sammy,” Dean slurs slightly and pushed his tray towards Sam. “Feed me.”

Sam almost chokes on his Coke. “What?! I’m not going to feed you, idiot.”

Dean cocks his head and folds his arms. “Feed me or I’ll kiss you.”

“I’m having a hard time deciding which would be worse,” Sam as dryly. “What’s with you? You’re not THAT drunk.”

“I saw it on the Internet and it looked…interesting. Apparently, it’s a thing in Japan or some shit.”

Sam leans in and struggles to keep the bitchiness of his voice in check, it’d only egg Dean on. “Well, we’re not in Japan. We’re in the rural south. You want to get us killed?”

Mockingly Dean mirrors his movements. “Come on, Sammy, where’s your sense of adventure. Besides, there’s no one here but us and the staff.”

“No way, I’m not doing it.”

“Okay, then,” Dean says and licks his lips. “Here I come…” He gets up to lean over the table and Sam jumps back.

“Fine, fine! Sit your ass down,” he hisses.

The register seems to be unoccupied at the moment. It’s just them. Sam picks one of Dean’s french fries and shoves it towards Dean’s face. He opens his mouth wide open and with surprising dexterity, for the alcohol level in his blood he picks it up from Sam’s fingers.

“There, happy now?”

Dean swallows and licks his lips. “All of it. You have to feed me the whole thing.”

At this point, Sam figures the best chance to get out of this unharmed is to just get it done as fast as possible. This time he picked a whole bunch of the fries and offered them to Dean.

“I want ketchup, too.”

Muttering silently under his breath Sam dipped the heads in the paper single-use bowl. Dean stuck his tongue out and it was up to Sam to put the fries into his mouth. Some of the ketchup caught the upper lip and after chewing for a while Dean’s tongue darted out to sweep it clean.

The weirdest thing was he hold Sam’s gaze through the whole process.

No, scratch that. The weirdest thing was Sam’s groin area was taking interest in all this.

“Salty, give me a drink.”

Sam held out the soda and again Dean’s tongue came out. This time it tried to get a hold of the straw but ended up sort of just licking the thin air. Eventually, he managed to close his lips around the straw and sucked the beverage greedily cheeks hollowed.

Again, never averting his eyes.

“Ah.” He released the straw and let out a little burp. “That hit the spot.”

Sam was in a weird limbo of being both turned on and disgusted.

“You want to finish the fries?”

Dean nodded and opened his mouth. His tongue did a weird flexing and Sam found himself thinking how soft and hot it would be against his fingers.

“Ketchup?” For some reason, his voice had lowered, gotten a bit husky.

Dean hummed with his mouth open. There was a trail of salvia trickling out of the corner of his mouth. He swallowed the rest of the fries easily but made a point of curling his lips in such a way that the grease made them a bit glossy.

“Drink?”

This time the gulps were kind of lingering. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. The head of the straw was bent and bitten when Dean pulled back.

The only thing left was the burger, a big mac. They both glanced at it, then each other.

“I’m not going to feed you that.”

“But you have to.”

“I don’t HAVE to anything.”

“And yet, here we are.” Dean grins slyly.

“I’m going to get you for this.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will.”

Sam picks up the burger with both hands. It’s warm and heavy, some of the special sauce has soaked into the wrapper, and couple leaves of the shredded lettuce drop to the tray. It’s awkward to hold the burger this way, or rather in this direction.

“You’re going to have to push it in a bit, it won’t fit otherwise,” Dean says before opening his mouth as wide as he can. And damn, doesn’t that go straight to Sam’s groin.

Gently and slowly he eases the edge of the burger into Dean’s mouth making sure he will get a bit of everything in one bite. It’s a tight fit. When Dean bites down Sam can feel the teeth cutting through the different layers. He pulls the burger back, and Dean’s face is quite the sight. The sauce had squirted out to make a mess of the corners of his mouth and a shred of lettuce drenched in sauce is hanging out between his lips. Before Dean picks it up with his tongue it smears his chin.

“Do you need some extra napkins?”

Sam’s head shots up. At some point, the cashier had come back and is staring at them eyes wide.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 22: The first 'I love you'  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

They don’t say it, the L-word.

_I love you._

What would it even mean in their case? “I love you..” As a brother? As a lover? As a destined soulmate they apparently were. When does it switch from one to the other?

The word is too restricted and yet too vague.

“Whatever we have between us, love, family, whatever it is…”

Love could get you killed in their line of work. Scratch that. It most definitely will get you killed. It will end you with blood and screams or gnaw you from the inside slowly over the years until you’re just a shell of a human being, walking dead. Love is what got them into this mess of a life in the first place.

The word is too dangerous and should be uttered with great cation.

But they do. Love each other, that is.

They have died for each other, they have kept living for each other. They have sacrificed the whole world, the human race as we know it, for each other. Because giving each other up just wasn’t an option. A love confession doesn’t get much grander than that.

But they don’t say it. The three magic words that keep the world spinning.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 23: Jealousy/possessiveness  
> Rating: G/T  
> Warnings: None

Dean can’t be that oblivious. He just can’t.

He can’t not notice her giggle that is a bit too girly, the hand that briefly touches his bicep, squeezes around the muscle a little like measuring a good piece of meat. He can’t not fall for that scam of accidentally dropping the pool cube or asking him to show how to hold the cue stick.

It’s the oldest and most obvious mating song and it’s going down right in front Dean.

And Sam.

But he refuses to do anything. He will not march there and – awkwardly stand next to the pool table. Stick out like a sore thumb. No, he will continue to sit at the bar and quietly seethe. He takes some satisfaction in knowing that it’s with him Dean will leave later, not her.

On the way back to the motel he doesn’t say a word. Dean talks for both of them. He brags how much money he hustled, goes on and on about how the chili fries of this town compare to the ones he had in Jacksonville couple months ago, and holds a small monologue on what kind of monster they’re probably hunting this time.

He doesn’t let on that he’s noticed Sam’s quietness until they’re in their room. He tosses the keys on the table, and Sam goes straight to plug in the laptop.

“What’s gotten your panties in a twist?”

“Were you doing it on purpose?”

“Doing what?”

Sam casts his eyes down and fiddles with the laptop cord. “Flirting with her like that.”

“What, you jealous?”

Sam glares at him. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Well, it wasn’t like I was flirting back.”

Sam arches his eyebrows and looks at Dean pointedly.

“Okay, maybe a little. But she was more chatty that way, gave me a lot of info about the area.”

“Did you give her your number?”

Dean rolls his eyes and shuffles to the small fridge for a beer. “What does it matter?”

“ _Did_ you?”

“Yes, okay! I did.” He twists the bottle open with a hiss, points it at Sam to silence him when he’s about to voice his complaints. “But only to help with the case. She seemed to know most of the folks around here.”

“I’m sure she does,” Sam mutters under his breath.

Dean takes a swing of the beer, smiles around the throat of the bottle. “I have to say you being jealous kind of turns me on.”

“Just don’t get carried away and give her any ideas,” Sam warns.

And doesn’t Dean’s grin widen at that. Clearly, he’s not taking Sam seriously. “Or what?” he teases and walks over to Sam, all swagger and wiggle. “You going to go all caveman on me?”

A hand slips behind Sam’s nape and lips nibble the sensitive skin of his neck. Hot breath that smells of beer puffs next to his ear. “If you’re so bothered by it, why don’t you just fuck me already and make me yours?”

And Sam does. Claims him slow and sweet, just the way he’s learned over the years. This is what lasts and stays with them forever, not some fast and fumbling quickie with a stranger.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 24: Insecurities  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

Dean had never seen so many forks and knives and spoons at once. He counted five forks and four knives. And who would need three spoons for one dinner? Were they all for him?

He had never felt so out of place.

Grumpy, he glanced at Sam across the long table. The amount of tableware didn’t seem to confuse him the slightest. He was talking with a woman sitting next to him, smiling his warm, polite smile that welcomed conversation. The rental tuxedo looked good on him, fitted just the right places. The woman gave a little laugh and put her petite hand on Sam’s forearm.

Dean was sure whatever Sam said couldn’t have been that funny.

The first course was served, and Dean eyed the silverware nervously. He couldn’t blow this, they had to sell their roles. Furtively he tried to peek which of the many forks other were using when something brushed his calf under the table and he jumped a little.

He looked at Sam, but he was still talking to the woman. However, Dean noticed him glancing at his direction out of the corner of his eye every now and then.

Dean gave him a little nod and started to move his hand over the forks from the right to left. When he was hovering over the last one, his calf was brushed again. He picked up the ice-cold fork and leaned over the salad which looked way too complicated. This time his leg was jabbed. Irritated, he looked up from his plate.

Sam shifted so he was touching his elbow, like in passing, and tapped the joint with his finger couple times.

Oh. Dean leaned back and took his elbow off the table.

Sam pantomimed him across the table through the whole damn dinner. When they were finally driving back to the motel, Dean was exhausted, he had never worked this hard in his life.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 25: Teasing each other  
> Rating: E  
> Warnings: None

“Wait, wait.” Sam grabbed Dean’s hips and stopped the rocking that was getting more erratic by the second. “Let’s change positions.”

Dean looked down at him like he had lost his mind. “What, now?!” he panted. “But I was just about to – “

“Come on, you won’t regret it.” He nudged Dean who – with great reluctance and muttering about already regretting it and maybe they should try gags the next time – climbed off and settled on his back. To his confusion, Sam didn’t immediately jump back to business but guided his hands to hold the bars of the headboard.

“Don’t let go, okay?” Sam said to his ear and squeezed the fingers around the bars for emphasis. “I won’t let you cum if you let go.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine.”

“Oh, and also,” Sam reached for his duffel on the floor and pulled out his tie, “I want to blind you. Is that okay?”

“Come on…,” Dean all but whined. “We can play next time, let’s just do this.”

“But it will be more effective if you can’t see anything.” Sam edged closer and flashed his puppy dog eyes for good measure.

Dean had no idea what “it” was but his body was aching for release so he just rolled his eyes. “Whatever, you pervert, just get on with it.”

The tie was wrapped over his eyes and he was in total darkness. Losing his sight immediately made his body tingle and the other senses heightened. He gulped with sudden excitement and waited.

And waited.

There were clicking sounds like typing a keyboard.

“Yo.” Dean lifted his head. “What’s the hold-up?”

“Just give me a minute to check how it went again.”

“What, you need a manual?! You need me to draw you a ma – ngg!”

His cheeky commentary was cut short when something cold and slippery grabbed his dick. Sam’s palm cupped tight around the sensitive head. Dean’s whole body jumped at the sudden touch and recoiled into the mattress.

“Whoa! Warn a guy…”

“Actually,” Sam’s voice was low and dark, “that’s the point of this play.”

A couple quick jerks brought Dean back to the edge where he had been few minutes ago. He was a little disappointed for having to have to settle for a hand job but he supposed the blindfold spiced it up a bit. He took a better hold on the headboard and pumped in the tunnel of Sam’s fingers.

Then the hand was gone. Just like that.

“Wha – I swear to God if you’re checking something again!”

A chuckle. Then the hand was back suddenly and Dean flinched. The strokes were slower now but the grip tightened towards the tip. Every now and then the head was rubbed in a weird way, like it was being pushed between Sam’s fingers.

Whatever it was, it felt awesome, and Dean’s body started to tense again. He spread his legs wider and gripped the headboard, arched his back.

“Faster,” he pressed past tight lips. “I’m going to – “

It turned into a low whine when the hand disappeared again.

“The hell man?!” He rose to –

“Hey, hey, hands!” Sam said and nudged him. “You almost let go.”

“Whatever, just let me cum already,” Dean muttered annoyed and settled back down.

Silently the hand went back to work again jerking him faster and twisting around the head. Dean sighed and once again tuned his mind and body ready for the big finale. The images running through his head were soundtracked by the obscene squelching of the lotion.

That’s it, almost there.

He panted and could feel his face was frozen in an idiotic expression.

Just a few more, right there, don’t st-

“Argh!” he roared in frustration and threw his head back against the pillow. All the breathing made him lightheaded, his body was on override and feverish. The bed sheets were sticking to his sweaty back.

He could feel Sam hovering over him watching him closely. All the undivided attention made him squirm. He bent down to breath against Dean’s neck.

“I’m going to blow your dick off so hold on tight.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 26: Public displays of affection  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

”Well, more like an old married couple.”

Dean's eyes widen in realization, and he leans back. Oh.

“What’s it like, settling down with a hunter?”

Like he wouldn’t know.

Cesar chuckles. “Smelly, dirty.” He turns to look at Jessie who has remained silent and staring at the table top. “Twice the worrying about getting ganked.”

The rest of the time they’re working on the case Dean keeps a close eye on them, steals glances that aren’t probably that subtle. Now that he knows what kind relationship they share, every little touch, look, and gesture stands out. He wonders if he and Sam are that obvious in other people’s eyes without even realizing it.

They make him nervous, unsettle and distract him. Never has his own life started so squarely back at him.

They drive back home in silence. Dean is torn. He’s happy for Cesar and Jessie, of course, but at the same time, envy and bitterness linger in the background. He and Sam, they would never have any of that.

Suddenly Sam’s hand wraps around his, and he jumps awake from his thoughts. Quickly he glances over at the other end of the seat, but Sam is looking out the window at the flashing scenery. Thumb sweeps over the knuckles, fingers give a little squeeze.

Yeah. As long as they are them, it’s good.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 27: First time  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None

Lisa hadn’t been the first, but Dean decided she’d be the last. The last time he’d get involved with someone and end up dragging them to his ugly world and put them in harm’s way. Having Cas wipe their memories was the first smart decision he had made in a long time.

It hurt like hell, though. Giving them up. It had never cut that deep before. Despite everything, he had been happy with them. As happy as he could’ve been without Sam.

But it was for the best. No more.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 28: Being old together  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: Implied character deaths

The two big flat stones have been there as long as the locals can remember. They’re abused by weather and time. The other one is cracked, both are covered with thick moss. Kids use them to launch fireworks and home-made rockets.

What no one knows is, those stones are graves and underground are buried the ashes of two men.

Well, it’s been so long the actual ashes aren’t there anymore. From dust to dust and all that. There aren’t even memories anymore.

It doesn’t matter, though. They never got the recognition when they were alive so they didn’t expect any dead either.

And it’s not like they’ve stopped living. Far away, beyond the beyond, the Impala’s engine rumbles and headlights pierce the night as they swallow the miles between endless worlds.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 29: Spoiling each other  
> Rating: T/M  
> Warnings: None

Sam knows Dean is a man with simple tastes. Cook him a home-made meal and suck his dick and he will be grinning contently for days. The problem is, Sam is much better at performing fellatio than roasting a whole chicken. He can cook well enough to keep himself alive but Dean’s the one who can conjure meals as good as those little ma-and-pas have dished out for three generations.

But damn it, he’s not one to give up.

He squints at the little piece of paper with Jody’s recipe on it for chicken and mash and scratches his head. Is that a five or a six? For long would a chicken of that size need? He’s performed all kinds of summoning rituals but making gravy from scratches makes him nervous.

He allowed himself one shortcut, though: a store-bought apple pie. There’s this one local pastry shop that bakes them as their specialty.

It all turns out…okay-ish. Sam eyes the dishes critically and picks up the imperfections, but Dean seems excited and rubs his hands together. He had been prohibited to come to the kitchen no matter what. Even though it sounded like the gates of Hell were being opened, he was not allowed to interfere.

“Dig in,” Sam says, and without further ado, they both load their plates full.

Dean shovels a bite of chicken and mash dripping with gravy into his mouth and groans and closes his eyes while chewing. “So good,” he says around the food.

“Dude, swallow first,” Sam half scowls, half smiles. But he has to agree, it does taste good. The mash has lumps but you can taste the salty butter, the chicken is a bit overcooked but at least it’s not raw, and the gravy could be thicker but packs a meaty punch. To wash all that down with a cold beer, who could ask for more?

They wolf down the dinner in silence, and in record time almost all the dishes are emptied.

“God, I’m going to burst,” Dean puffs, leans back in his chair and opens the buttons of his jeans.

“Any room for dessert?”

Dean smirks. “Always.”

His face lights up like a little child’s when Sam carries the pie to the table. He reaches to cut himself a slice but Sam snatches the container away. An honest to god whine passes Dean’s lips.

“You know, I’m not that big on sweets,” Sam says and opens the box. Just now Dean notices he didn’t bring a knife or plates, just one big spoon. He breaks the curst in the middle of the pie and scoops out the brown apple filling, offers it to Dean who is so confused he allows himself to be fed.

As soon as the spoon leaves Dean’s mouth Sam leans in for a kiss. It takes Dean by surprise and he jumps a little, but Sam’s free hand is already cradling his neck, effectively keeping him in place when his tongue pushes in between his lips. It swirls around, gets mixed in the filling. Dean has to concentrate on not accidentally biting down on the tongue.

Sam pulls back and smacks his mouth. “Hmm, it’s not half bad eaten off something a bit salty.” He scoops another spoonful of the pie. “I wonder…” Dean opens his mouth again, ready this time, but the spoon is tipped half-way and the content, or at least some of it, drops on his jeans. On his crotch area to be exact.

“…maybe it’s even better with more salt.” Sam gets down on his knees and mouths the applesauce off the fabric. Licks it clean all the while glancing up at Dean under his lashes.

Dean gulps, his breath shudders with anticipation. “You evil, evil man,” he mutters.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 30: Falling in love  
> Rating: G  
> Warnings: Implied canon character death

In Sam and Dean’s case, it wasn’t really a question of ‘when’ or ‘how’ as much as it was ‘why’. Why it seemed impossible for them to have a life without the other by their side?

And the answer was quite simple. It was meant to be. Written in the stars. As much as Dean loathed all that crap about destiny, because you always, ALWAYS had a choice, he was starting to agree. Maybe having a choice was destiny, too.

If they hadn’t always fought tooth and nail the grand plan, the world would’ve have ended long ago. If they hadn’t loved each other so much they would’ve fallen into the roles of Michael and Lucifer.

Or maybe it was all just randomness and no matter what you did, it always hurt like hell in the end.

He didn’t know for how long he had been kneeling there and blankly staring at the ground. The yellow grass had gotten a scorch of black around the rings. The cold moistness of the dirt seeped through his jeans. Tears mixed in with the blood on their way down his cheeks and stung in the cuts.

When, how, or even why, he had no idea. He didn’t know anything anymore. Didn’t care.

All he knew was emptiness. The wide field was empty of life. The car, he realized, would be empty from now on. His mind, guts, all of him was empty like someone had carved him hollow. Except for his heart. That was so full it was bursting but he was unable to ease the pressure. Like he had a cage of his own.

Maybe their love had been meant to be but what was he supposed to do now?

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find Shipping Inc. on [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/groups/shipperslife/) and [Tumblr](https://shipping-inc-universe.tumblr.com/)


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